Words are Food for the Mind
by foggybythebay
Summary: A series of unrelated drabbles to meet the prompts and word limits for the latest challenge I've entered to feed my starving muse. "Breathe in Breathe Out" is Hermione, "Stop the World" is Harry/Pansy. Contest in progress...
1. Breathe In, Breathe Out

Written for: **The Word Limit Competition - Round 1 Posted! xD**

**Round 1  
><strong>Word Limit: 500 Words  
>Prompt: <em>Breathe In, Breathe Out<em>  
>Due Date: April 1st (Aka. April Fools Day)<p>

* * *

><p>Breathe in.<p>

Hermione watched him through watery eyes. Her lips trembled, failing to keep back the emotion that engulfed her rational thought.

She despised this.

Pain racketed her body and she shot her hand out in desperate search of his strengthening hold. She nearly sobbed when she felt his steady fingers curl around hers with a force that fought through the haze of her agony. She grit her teeth as the torment swelled again and she couldn't fight the need to cry out.

At the sound of her suffering, he firmed his grip her hand. His expression mirrored hers, but was bathed in worry. He longed to bark out orders at the mediwitches assigned to her care, despite knowing they were doing all that they could considering her condition.

Words of comfort would no longer do. He'd tried telling her earlier that she would be alright and that he knew her torment. Hermione had nearly killed him with a look that, had she been a Basilisk, would have ended him on the spot. Tightening his lips, he simply caught her eye and gave her a supportive smile, making her see that he was there with her and not planning on letting go.

Hermione whimpered up at him, disliking the helplessness that her traitorous body had her feeling. She clutched at the bed railing, ripping her gaze from the man beside her, only to blink up at the whitewashed ceiling. She called for strength. She would get through this, she thought determinedly. Come hell or high water, she was Hermione J. Granger and she could bloody well do just about anything she pleased.

At the foot of her bed, a loud commotion among the Healers alarmed the suffering couple. Unfortunately, husband and wife could do little more than clutch hands while waiting for the verdict. Another wave of unbearable pain coursed through her.

Hermione's next shriek shook the rafters and she felt a masculine hand reach out to gently wipe the perspiration from her brow.

"I'm so sorry," he couldn't help but whisper. His hand shook against her sweat-slicked skin. His worried gaze, full of anguish and apology, had Hermione nearly swearing aloud. If only she had the strength, she'd properly lambaste him for trying to take all of the blame for this.

This time, Hermione knew, she was the one at fault. If she hadn't gone to find him, none of this would have happened and they would never have ended up together, bathed in the sheer terror of having to deal with the consequences of what had then been her rash decision to play the hero... for the love of him.

He gulped, wishing to take on the pain she bore for his sake... for _their_ sake. He cursed the gods for putting her through this which he could not bear to witness nor raise a wand to ease.

"Do something!" he bellowed at the frazzled Healer at the edge of the bed. "She hurting!"

"Don't yell," Hermione pleaded at him, pressing her fingers into his. "It's not her fault. Let her work." As she said this, another wave of pain shot through her and Hermione swore she would die if it got any worse. She shut her eyes and clenched her teeth against her voice, too hoarse to let out the primal scream that tore from her throat anyway.

"It's time," the Healer said sternly. "Do it now."

Hermione felt the man she'd saved, the one who, in turn, saved her, at last speak the command he'd long practiced for this moment. She was more than happy to do his bidding.

"One more time," she heard them all urge, quite sure she would pass out if they asked her to do any more than this.

"Breathe out, Hermione!"

Her forceful exhale was meet with the heart rendering sound of a newborn baby's wail, and Hermione's fatigued gaze sought out the man she loved, only to find him weeping at the sight of their brand new little son.


	2. Stop the World

**Round 2  
><strong>Word Limit: 1000 Words  
>Prompt: Stop the World<br>Due Date: April 5th, 0004 GMT

Author's note: This does not coincide with Chapter One. These are independent drabbles.

* * *

><p>"Stop!"<p>

Harry's shout bounced along the dungeon corridor. She'd skirted past him in a huff while he publicly and loudly berated The Ferret outside in the courtyard.

Pansy's steps halted momentarily before continuing onward at their steady pace. Her faltering step indicated she might have stopped had he given her good reason.

Harry heaved a long-suffering sigh and rushed headlong in pursuit. He ducked into the unfamiliar darkness of the dank hall that lead to the snake's pit.

"Do you have something to say, Parkinson?" he demanded, accelerating towards her.

Refusing to respond, Pansy firmed her jaw, rolling her eyes as she continued her purposeful stride toward her common room. She was miffed and it had everything to do with his response to her and the sight of him fighting with Draco... _again_.

"PARKINSON!" Harry shouted, the command rang clear in his singular word. The forceful bellow had Pansy's heart leaping. In utter irritation, she whirled around.

"Go back to your bloody tower, Potter!" she seethed, her dark hair whipped against her face before neatly falling back onto her shoulders. "You're not wanted here!"

"Not until you explain what it is you want from me!" he replied hotly, striding over to stand toe-to-toe with her. Beneath hooded eyes, his green gaze glinted at her. A familiar frustration that seemed only to rear its head in the presence of one Miss Parkinson rose to tip his tone toward just barely tethered fury.

As he waited for her to speak, he again reluctantly confirmed that she'd indeed grown into her looks. There was little about her now to warrant her old nickname of Pug Face.

Pansy tilted her chin and stared defiantly up into his infuriated glare. She wondered at the flash of passion that she discovered once before in the depths of his verdant gaze. It was this tendency to forget himself that what was most intriguing about The Chosen One. His unwavering sense of honor and dignity beckoned her to keep flitting after him.

She once had an innate desire to be good, but long accepted the safety in pretending to be bad.

"I owe you no explanations. I do as I please," she bit back, solidifying her stance as her hands fisted at her sides. "You've no right to ask anything of me!"

Harry dared to grab the insolent witch by the shoulders. It had been like this between them for some time now, ever since the curious night in the Astronomy Tower when she'd caught him out past curfew. After a brief verbal spar, which ended with him hauling her up by the shirtfront to land solidly against him while he angrily lambasted her such vulgarity. It was at that unlikely moment that Pansy chose to whisper her secret fantasy of desiring a kiss from The Boy Who Lived.

It had been awkward for Harry, to say the least. He'd hemmed and hawed himself out of the Astronomy Tower before she could spy the crimson crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks. Admittedly, it hadn't been one of his most suave moments. He'd attempted an apology in Potions the following day, only to have his entire existence duly ignored by the Slytherin Princess.

"You didn't want the truth that I offered the other night," she reminded him, with a pout.

Silently, he continued to meet her accusatory look. Since that night, Harry had imagined kissing Pansy enough times to ensure he wouldn't go running off like a virginal idiot at the first sign of aggressive flirtation. She raised a well-manicured brow. "Oh, so _now_ you want the truth?" she mocked. She slid her narrowed gaze to his hands still at her shoulders.

"Yes, let's try that again," he replied, more determined than ever not to back down.

"You and Draco should just snog," she suggested cattily. "The way you two go at it, there's got to be something ... there... Come to think of it, it's rather unmistakable, really. I suggest you just get it out of your system. After all, you didn't want to kiss _me_ the other night. Clearly, you prefer wizards over witches."

To Pansy's glee, Harry's mouth fell open. "W-what?" His eyes goggled at her.

"Oh, don't deny it, _Harry_," she drawled his name. "You stare at Draco more than you stare at any witch in the Great Hall. People are starting to talk." She lied so smoothly, she almost believed it herself. She started to cackle a little at his aghast expression. He looked a great deal like a gaping fish.

The shrillness of her laughter ignited Harry's temper and he found himself forcefully backing her against the wall. The torchlight flickered, shrouding his face in shadows. Harry's fingers, which gripped her shoulders at her taunting, lifted away. He smacked his open palms against the rocky wall on either side of her head, effectively caging her. He bent his knees just a little so that they were nose-to-nose.

Pansy's eyes widened. _There it was,_ that something she'd longed to witness up close and personal. She reckoned this wild, untamable _something_ was what she desperately needed in her life, just to feel the pulse of emotion that seemed to have vacated her own being since... well, _forever. _

A thrill of excitement shot through her, and for a single blessed moment, everything centered around the dark-haired, virile, and quite aroused wizard before her. It was as though his mere nearness could simply stop the world. His breath was all that marked the passage of time.

"I stare his way because you're always beside him," Harry admitted hoarsely, his whisper low and just a bit dangerous. He licked his lips and lowered his mouth a millimeter away from hers. "And that's the godawful truth, Parkinson. Merlin, help me, but since that night, I've thought of little else except the fact that I want to kiss you, too.


End file.
